


A cap for your thoughts?

by Cornbeefroast



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornbeefroast/pseuds/Cornbeefroast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret getaway on top of the Wall goes... surprisingly well actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A cap for your thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smoothkreminal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoothkreminal/gifts).



> Just wanted to write some pure unadulterated fluff between mine and smoothkreminal's ocs because we're oc-shippers in too deep :P

The view from on top of the wall was… humbling, he supposes.

Zenith’s broken in to the Wall several times before, sometimes with the intent of annoying the city guard, other times, just for the peace and quiet.

This time is one of the latter.

When he’s up here, sitting beneath the stars, looking out over the commonwealth, it feels like it’s the only time he can really breathe. It’s clear, it’s quiet. The wind is gentle and chilly, and the stars wink overhead. Gentle lulling clouds paint dark silhouettes on the ground, curtains to the full moon, swathing the world in moments of darkness and silvery light.

He can see the fires of sites claimed by bandits or settlers in between the crumbling buildings, the occasional _pop_ of gunfire somewhere distant. One of these days he should bring his rifle up here, play target practice with MacCready.

He jumps when there’s a sharp _snap_ behind him, resisting the urge to grab the knife nestled in the holster under his arm when he sees the cause.

Tetsuo smiles apologetically, setting the creaky old lawn chair down on the smooth plaster of the Wall, his skin flashing in the flicker of the waste basket fire Zenith set up, currently nibbling on the remains of an old beer crate.

The man built like a brick house gently sets up the second lawn chair he brought, an atrocious avocado green color, on the opposite side of the waste basket, then offers his hand to Zenith.

“Figured y’could use some company.” His voice always sends a flare of warmth twisting in Zenith’s chest, smiling as he accepts the hand up, and the nuka-cola Tetsuo presses into his hands, clinking the bottles together in a silent toast.

“Bottle cap for your thoughts?” Tetsuo asks, dropping into his lawn chair, dwarfing the thing with his broad shoulders. He doesn’t look like he belongs, it’s a pastel blue chair and he’s a man scarred by gunshot and deathclaw, the disparity between pre and post-war maybe, if Zenith was a philosopher.

He’s not, and he finds the contrast much too attractive.

“Just thinking.” He hums, ignoring the little chair Tetsuo set out for him and instead sitting on his lover’s lap.

Tetsuo chokes on his cola, inhaling sharply, coughing his laughter in the crook of his elbow, “Give a guy some warning.” He chides teasingly, breathless as he loops his arms around Zenith’s waist, pulling him close, sharing the same air.

“Surprise is half the fun.” Zenith retorts, shifting comfortably against Tetsuo.

Tetsuo huffs, rolling his eyes and pressing his cheek against Zenith’s affectionately, squeezing Zenith tight against him and laughing when the sniper gasps.

“Oof-!” he struggles against the grip around his waist, biting down hard on the screeching laugh stuck in his throat when Tetsuo rubs his beard against Zenith’s neck, “Ouch! S-stop—beard burn!” he laughs, gasping for breath when his lover finally loosens his hold, kissing the burn on his neck better.

“Surprise is half the fun.” Tetsuo taunts in his ear, Zenith can see him grinning out the corner of his eye, much too pleased with himself.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

Zenith takes a swig from his cola, ignoring the rumbling chuckle against his back, “Alright _sweetheart_ , will do.”

And they settle like the wind does, all at once, but gently. Zenith allows himself to be enveloped in warmth, tracing aimless patterns in the arms around his waist, watching the stars and counting the shared breaths.

The fire crackles away, fading with every passing minute, the lull of the city below them quieting as the night grows darker.

The city watch will find them eventually, find the door with the broken lock and search for the culprits, only to sigh in annoyance when they recognize the miscreants.

But right now no one interrupts.

Zenith fiddles with his pip-boy, Tetsuo watching curiously as he flips through the screens to the recording tab.

“What’re you doing?”

“Thinking.” Zenith replies, pressing the microphone button, a red light greeting him on the front panel.

He records the wind, the electrical hum of power lines, the heartbeat pressed against his shoulder.

“I love you” he presses a gentle kiss to Tetsuo’s cheek, the pleased hum in response recorded forever on tape.

“Love you too.”


End file.
